Chapter 8. No Place Like Home

Layla’s POV

I wanted to memorize all of it: the pictures on the walls, the necklaces I and Tracey had made as kids that my mom hung over the mantel, and the rug that we played on so hard that it was torn. Mom refused to throw anything away, no matter how broken it was from me and Tracey either climbing on it, falling into it, or hanging on it. She said that all of those things were memories from a time that she would never get back. My fingers pressed against the framed picture of a horse in my bedroom, one I drew when I was six. I clearly had no talent in drawing, but I always loved that picture; it was my idea of freedom.

They were all gathered downstairs, and we hugged tightly for a long time. It felt so strange; I didn’t want to leave them at all. Why couldn’t my mate have been a non-Alpha? Just a normal werewolf who could come live here with us instead.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” my mom kissed my forehead.

“Don’t break anyone’s nose, that’s not how